Drowning
by thelastcity
Summary: Tony dreams he is drowning. Pre-slash.


**Title:** Drowning  
**Author:** _thelostcity/thelastcity  
**Fandom:** NCIS  
**Genre:** Pre-slash  
**Characters:** Gibbs, DiNozzo, an OFC that's not mine  
**Pairing:** Gibbs/DiNozzo (eventually)  
**Categories:** hurt/comfort, angst, sick!Tony  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warning:** mentions of past child abuse  
**Spoilers:** Requiem, vaguely  
**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to FOX, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Author's notes:** This wasn't originally a tag to Requiem, but that's what it turned into. Also, this is a continuation of **zortified**'s story Toy Box, posted with permission. I couldn't leave well enough alone and added on, for better or worse. My story can be read alone, but I highly recommend reading Toy Box first, since my story will make more sense that way.  
As usual, a huge thank-you to **onlyonechoice** for the beta :) She forces me use more imagery even though my minimalist tendencies make me heartily resist. I tried, I really did.

* * *

Tony dreams he is drowning. There isn't enough air to pull into his aching lungs and he can feel the hands pushing him down, down, down.

Tony wakes heaving and gasping for air. This time the hands are pulling him up, pulling him forward to rest on something solid and warm, pulling him through the deep grating coughs.

When Tony comes back to himself he first notices the warm hand on the back of his neck, and then realizes that he's crying, sobbing, into that warm, solid something that's propping him up. He can't think past that, however, because he dreamt he was drowning, of hands holding him down.

Awareness spikes again sometime later and Tony recognizes the feel of Gibbs' hands rubbing soothing circles on his back, even though he's never felt them anywhere but the back of his head. He's stopped crying now, and his breathing is slowing back down to the gasps of a plague survivor with bronchitis.

"We had to give you a mild sedative. You were crying too hard to breathe properly," Gibbs says softly into Tony's ear.

He can't concentrate on anything but breathing right now, so he turns his face slightly into Gibbs' neck in lieu of answering. It feels nice to be held, and as much as he shouldn't be doing this he doesn't actually have the energy to move away.

"What were you dreaming?"

Because he's running on reflex alone right now, and responding to Gibbs is a reflex, Tony tells him. "Drowning."

"No one drowned, Tony. You got us in time."

But that's not true, it's _not_, because someone _did_ drown, so Tony whimpers into Gibbs' neck and the only reason he doesn't start crying again is because of the sedative. He wants to, oh he wants to, but he can't; he doesn't have the energy to do anything but lean against Gibbs.

Gibbs doesn't quite know how to parse the whimper, but Maria chooses that moment to come in with a cup of broth and more medication. When she found out that Tony was sick, she insisted on cooking and coming by every other day instead of once a week to help Gibbs clean up. She seems thrilled that he's there, and every time she sees him touching Tony she smiles this secret little smile to herself. He can't help but think she approves. Of what he's not entirely sure.

Taking the cup of broth, Gibbs holds the straw to Tony's lips, "Come on, Tony, you need to have some of this." He feels Tony shift on his shoulder trying to move away, but Gibbs follows him with the straw. "You need to eat something Tony. Maria made it; it'll make you feel better."

While Gibbs coaxes Tony to eat, he can hear Maria puttering around the room straightening trinkets and tidying up dirty clothes. After Tony manages half the cup of broth, Gibbs helps him lie down again and brushes hair off his sweaty forehead. When he stands up he finds that Maria's been watching him again, still with that infuriating, enigmatic smile.

He follows her back out into the kitchen where she presses a beautiful wooden box into his hands. Where it came from he has no idea, but before he can open it she starts talking.

"He'll never tell you himself. Goodness knows I've been telling him for years to just _ask_ already, but he never does!"

Gibbs isn't quite following her train of thought, but she's got that approving smile on her face again as she starts going on about spaghetti dinners that have gone to waste and if he'd just _ask already_ she would happily cook for them. That's when it clicks and all he can do is blink because he had no idea. Not one clue.

Maria finishes up whatever it was she was doing and kisses Gibbs on the cheek as she leaves, still smiling that approving smile.

After Maria leaves, Gibbs mulls over what she told him for a while. He really didn't know. He had wondered occasionally, idly, but right when he thought something might be there he was always wrong. Tony's smiles would be fake, and he'd be withdrawn, not enough for anyone but Gibbs to notice, but withdrawn all the same. Those weren't the actions of someone who was interested.

Taking a deep breath, Gibbs studies the box. The ornate box looks practically brand new; the finish is perfect except for the bottom and its four corners, where it has scuff marks from being slid on something. The design is elegant but not complicated; the beauty evidenced in neat lines and delicate carvings. It doesn't lock, but the catch moves like this box isn't opened all that often.

When he opens it he's surprised to see toys. A chipped red car and a plastic kazoo. A piece of dirty string, looped at one end and frayed at the other. He spends several minutes just looking at the mementos of Tony's youth before noticing that the toys are resting on top of something else.

He sees the picture before he opens the papers; two young boys grinning madly, so proud of the fish they'd caught. Once he stops looking at the picture, the boy on the left is so clearly Tony, he looks at the sheaf of papers.

He finds several letters written in the untidy scrawl of a young boy, and an obituary. He reads the latter first; it's for a 13-year-old boy who drowned in a tragic lake accident one summer while vacationing with his family. Gibbs wonders if it's the other boy in the picture.

The letters are addressed to Tony and signed by Ryan, presumably the same Ryan whose obituary he just read. They're not overt, and they're not explicit, but it's clear that these are love letters. Now he knows that Ryan is the other boy in the photo, and the picture forming in Gibbs' mind about what exactly happened to Ryan isn't pretty.

Before he can continue with that train of thought, he hears Tony start moving in the other room. Between the fever and the sedative Gibbs knows that Tony's not going to be able to do much of anything on his own, so he goes to help. Gibbs is not, however, expecting to find Tony on the floor, half under the bed. _With a fever this high Tony shouldn't be out of bed, much less under it!_

"DiNozzo? What are you doing?" Sometimes Tony gets delirious when he's sick, so Gibbs thinks that maybe this is something related. Tony pulls enough ridiculous stunts when he's fully functioning, but when he's sick it gets even worse. Gibbs remembers finding Tony sitting fully-clothed in the bathtub, filling it with ice cubes and lukewarm water, when he had a nasty case of bronchitis last year. He never did figure out how Tony got the ice cubes without him noticing.

"I can't find it, Gibbs! It's always right here. I can't find it." Tony's very upset by whatever he can't seem to find, judging by his desperate tone and flailing arms, but Gibbs is more concerned with the possibility of dust bunnies setting off another coughing fit. He leans down to both peek under the bed (_hmm, no dust bunnies, odd_) and coax Tony back into bed.

"There's nothing under there, Tony. You need to be back in bed. Come on."

Surprisingly, Tony tries to push him away, twisting and squirming. "I know!" he coughs, suddenly jerking himself out of Gibbs' arms, "That's the problem!"

Tony's very agitated now and Gibbs needs to calm him down before something serious happens. "Well, what's usually there? I'll help you find it." He wraps his arms around Tony's middle before he can crawl under the bed again, keeping him vertical on unsteady legs.

"'S my box. My wooden box," he whispers distractedly, twisting and looking all around the room for it while Gibbs holds him upright.

_Crap_, Gibbs thinks. That box is currently sitting, open, on Tony's dining room table. "I know where it is, Tony. Why don't you get back in bed and I'll bring it in."

Tony sighs in relief, which sets off another coughing jag. Gibbs uses that to his advantage, pushing Tony back into bed and under the covers. When Tony's calm again, Gibbs props him up on the pillows and goes to retrieve the box with a quick "Be right back." As he walks back into the room, Tony blinks at him for a few moments, having forgotten what he wanted. When Tony sees the box in Gibbs' hands, though, he immediately reaches for it. After taking it he doesn't open it, instead he just holds it and strokes the intricate inlay.

It takes a few minutes, but when Tony connects the fact that Gibbs delivered the box and it hadn't been under his bed, Gibbs sees Tony pale further than his current pallor and panic spike in his eyes. Having read the letters and obituary, and remembering what Tony's nightmare was about, it's not too difficult to figure out why.

"Why do you have my box?" The sedative is keeping him from getting too worked up, but Gibbs knows that he needs to keep Tony as relaxed as possible.

"Tony,"

"Why do you have my box, Gibbs!" Tony's on the verge of tears again, and Gibbs' heart starts breaking a little for him.

"Relax, Tony." Gibbs reaches out to comfort him, but Tony shies away, curling up on his side facing away from Gibbs. Gibbs knows he can't stay like that for long, that position is terrible for breathing. "Maria gave it to me."

Tony whimpers again, but it turns into a mild cough at the end. He's got to sit back up, but sitting up means facing Gibbs and he's aware that's not something Tony wants to do. He doesn't give Tony a choice, though, hauling him up and then holding him there when he can't stay up on his own.

A few tears leak out and Gibbs wipes them away before shifting to sit behind Tony, pulling Tony into his lap.

"You weren't supposed to know. She wasn't supposed to tell you."

Gibbs remains silent, one hand running through Tony's hair while the other arm wraps around Tony's waist.

"They were so _angry_. We, just, we were in love, and 13, and his father...my father beat the ever-loving shit out of me."

Gibbs sighs and hugs Tony closer. He hates that this happened to Tony, and wants to beat the tar out of the men, the fathers, who thought their reaction was appropriate.

"Please don't fire me, Gibbs," Tony whispers.

He can't control his reaction, "Jesus Christ, DiNozzo! I'm not gonna fire you!" He feels Tony try to shrink away from him, but just holds him tighter. "Easy, Tony, relax. Sometimes I like men, too." He didn't want to admit that, but it was a small price to pay to feel Tony finally settle against him.

"Really?"

"Really. So now you've got dirt on me. You don't tell, I won't tell."

"Yeah, okay." Tony starts to drift off, "I can do that."


End file.
